


The Long Sleep

by ljunattainable



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ljunattainable/pseuds/ljunattainable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has his mojo back.  The spinning wheel needle really shouldn't have had this effect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I was walking the dog this morning and I pricked my finger on a thorn. This was the result. I think I might have a Dean/Cas related problem.

“Ow.”

“Why ‘ow’?” Dean asks, only paying a modicum of attention and still rummaging in the witch’s kitchen cupboard because ‘ow’ said mildly and without urgency doesn’t warrant him dropping everything to find out what’s going on.

“I pricked my finger,” Cas says. 

He does actually sound worried, so Dean sighs, and turns around. Cas has one hand cradled palm up in the other, his forefinger held out straight, all the other fingers of that hand curling into his palm. He’s staring down at the pad of his fingertip in consternation. 

“Come here you big baby and let me see,” Dean says. He reaches his hand out inviting Cas to pass his injured finger across for inspection. “What did you prick it on anyway?”

Cas nods over his shoulder to where a spinning wheel sits in one corner of the room. “That.”

“You should be more careful,” Dean murmurs as he inspects the damage. Cas’s concern doesn’t make any sense because despite Dean’s insult, Cas is not one for exaggerating his injuries. “It’s just a pinprick.” Dean looks up, frowning. “There’s not even much blood.”

“Dean, you don’t understand,” Cas says insistently, and he’s right, Dean doesn’t.

“Then tell me.”

“I’m an angel again.”

“Yeah, so…”

“I can’t heal it,” Cas hisses as if he’s talking to an idiot.

Oh. “Oh.” Dean’s eyes widen in realization. “So what? You lost your mojo again?”

Cas frowns. “No. I can still feel the grace. Everything else is the same.”

Dean stares at him. “So exactly how worried should I be?” Cas only shrugs, but he’s clearly worried too.

###

Nothing happens. 

They leave the witch’s home after removing all the hex bags and canceling all the spells hidden under the carpets and behind the cupboard doors, making it safe for the poor unsuspecting relative who’s going to inherit the place. 

Sam picks them up on the street out front of the property. He gets out to let Dean get into the driver’s seat, Cas slides into the back as Sam walks around the trunk to get to the passenger side. 

“Cas pricked his finger,” Dean says as soon as Sam’s in the car as if an anxiety shared is an anxiety halved.

“Um, okay,” says Sam, clearly confused as to why he’s being told this.

“He can’t heal it,” Dean says, quietly.

“Oh,” Sam says, getting the problem straight away. Sam turns to face Cas, and Cas waggles his finger, Dean’s bandage included, in Sam’s direction. “And everything else…?”

“Is fine,” Cas acknowledges. Dean catches his eye in the mirror briefly before glancing quickly away. It’s unlikely to be fine. Their life stinks.

“So we wait and see,” Sam says, shrugging, and yeah. What else can they do?

###

The next morning Cas won’t wake up. By rights, all mojo’ed up and all, he shouldn’t even have been asleep - hadn’t been when Dean dropped off. But here he is lying on the floor between their beds, curled into a ball on his side, knees tucked up into his chest, head resting on one arm. Dean almost trod on him as he made his blurry way from bed to bathroom.

Now Dean sits on the edge of the bed watching Sam check Cas out. 

Sam stands up slowly. “He’s just asleep,” he says perplexed. “His heart rate is fine, his breathing is fine, he’s the right temperature. There’s nothing wrong with him, except… “ Sam waves a hand over Cas’s prone figure.

“… Except he won’t wake up,” Dean finishes for him. He points to Cas’s hand. “What about his finger.”

Sam bends down and rolls off the bandage. “A normal pinprick. No bleeding, no swelling, healthy color.” He lowers Cas’s hand, throws the used bandage in the trash and rocks back onto his heels. “So now what?” he asks, looking up at Dean.

“I hate freakin’ witches,” Dean says instead of answering. 

###

Cas is on Dean’s bed, made more comfortable with the removal of coats and shoes, but otherwise exactly as he was when they found him on the floor of the motel room a week ago. Dean glances across at him between flicking pages of Grizelda’s Anti-Evil-Spell Cures or whatever frigging book it is he’s reading now. He’s lost track they’ve been through so many. Sam’s on one of his library runs to find more. Dean wishes Amazon would have the foresight to put all the lore and witchcraft books on kindle.

He wanders across to Cas and holds his wrist between finger and thumb, checking his pulse, then his other hand in front of his mouth checking he’s still breathing okay. Normal. By now Dean’s not expecting anything else. That’s something at least. Cas isn’t losing weight, he’s not getting dehydrated, doesn’t need the bathroom, isn’t getting bedsores; his breathing is steady and even, his heart rate is within the normal range for someone who’s in a deep sleep. Dean’s fingers linger on Cas’s wrist letting the steady pulse calm him. He lets go when Sam opens the door and walks in with two more books. 

“This is it,” Sam says, meaningfully. “If there’s nothing in here… man, I’ve got no idea what to try next.”

###

Cas is asleep on the back seat. It’s been a month since the witch, two weeks since they decided they had to get back on the road, comatose angel or not. They get two rooms in the motels they stop in now - Cas in one bed, and Dean with Sam in the other just wasn’t ideal. 

They take it in turns to share a room with Cas though Dean would be happy to share with Cas every night. He hasn’t told Sam that yet. Like he hasn’t told Sam the nights he does share with Cas he sits up all night on the empty side of Cas’s bed, leaning against the headboard watching Cas sleep and wondering what he’s going to do if Cas never wakes up.

###

Dean hates it when they have to leave Cas alone in the room, but there are times it just can’t be helped. Like now, they’re hunting a skinwalker, the days are scorching hot and they can’t leave Cas asleep in the back of the car because they might be gone for hours. 

They’ve had to leave Cas a few times, of course, in the three months since the witch, but that doesn’t make it any easier. He wanders over to the bed and sits on the edge, taking Cas’s hand as has become his habit since he gave up any pretense that he was happy to spend nights in another room that wasn’t the room Cas was in. Maybe Cas can feel him holding his hand, stroking his hair, rubbing his back. 

It’s all getting too much, he can feel tears pricking at his eyes and he blinks them away. “Please wake up, buddy,” he pleads desperately, “please.”

As usual, Cas doesn’t.

###

“I kinda had a thought,” Sam says, six months PW (post-witch), as Dean’s taken to calling it.

“About?” Dean asks, flipping over the page of his car magazine awkwardly with the hand that’s draped over Cas’s shoulders. He’s got Cas leaning against his side because that’s the most comfortable position he could find on this particular lumpy mattress. Sam can believe him or not, Dean gave up caring a couple of months ago.

“About Cas,” Sam says. 

Dean stills. They haven’t actually talked about Cas for a while now, having exhausted new ideas a long time ago. Dean’s not sure if he even wants to hear another of Sam’s wild theories. He can’t cope with the hope it builds up only to be let down time and time again. “Yeah?” he says cautiously.

Sam pulls a book out from his satchel and hands it over nervously like he’s not sure how Dean’s going to react. ‘The Analysis of Fairy Tales in Witchcraft’ the book’s called. 

“Catchy title.” Dean drops his magazine and takes it out of Sam’s hands. “And?”

Sam shrugs. “Just read it. Chapter eight. I think it’s worth a try,” he says. Dean puts the book on the nightstand. 

“Dean?”

“I will, Sam. I will read it before I go to sleep. I promise.”

When Sam leaves to go to his own room, Dean opens the book. It’s all about how fairy tales are actually real folk lore about witches curses, which, duh, obviously. The contents page reads like a kids story book - Rapunzel, Hansel and Gretal, Jack and the Beanstalk. His eye tracks down the list to chapter eight. Sleeping Beauty. Oh, really Sam, for God’s sake. He slams the book shut and throws it to the floor.

Cas is a heavy, warm weight against him. A sleeping, heavy, warm, beautiful weight against him. Dean gropes around on the floor and retrieves the book.

Turns out that waking the sleeper up with a kiss thing is supposed to be real. Dean’s not surprised. Sam didn’t just give him this book out of casual interest. Sam’s read it, Sam knows. Dean knew as soon as he saw the chapter title, if he’s honest.

He looks down at Cas, sleeping peacefully against his shoulder and he sighs. He doesn’t expect it to work, obviously, it’s ridiculous, but he’s got nothing to lose and nor has Cas. It’s just Dean had hoped Cas would be awake the first time he kissed him.

Dean leans down, and because kissing someone you haven’t kissed before when they’re asleep and they can’t object feels a bit off, Dean keeps it chaste, his lips pressing lightly to Cas’s. Then he shifts away maybe an inch to wait, Cas’s warm, even breaths blowing against his mouth.

Nothing happens. Of course it doesn't. Dean mentally kicks himself for allowing himself to hope despite his low expectations. He drops his forehead to Cas’s, and one tear turns into many. He pulls Cas close against him, wraps his arms around him tight and eventually he cries himself to sleep.

He wakes up the next morning being stared at by a pair of very familiar wide blue eyes so close that he can hardly focus. 

He swallows, barely trusting himself to speak, but manages to croak out, “Sleeping beauty has to marry the handsome prince.”

He laughs shakily at Cas’s confused expression before he closes the gap and Cas gives a startled gulp as Dean kisses him again, chaste like the last time. 

Like the first time. 

Like the first time of many, if Cas will have him. Cas looks curious, not upset. Dean's fairly sure Cas will have him.


End file.
